Projecting

My name is Fredrico. Or Fernando. Or something like that. I am a pimp. I am so good looking and smooth this should be obvious, but I still wear a turtleneck shirt when I go to clubs that says “pimp” on the back of the neck. It’s off the hook. Seriously. And so am I.

So one night I was hanging at O’Malley’s Four Corners with my crew, trying to get some play. Not that I have to try very hard, being a sexy mother like I am, but you know the girls — it always takes a little smooth to get them to give it up.

It was still pretty early but the club was a bust so we took off. We were trying to think where to go next… Jefe wanted to hit a strip club, as always, but I wasn’t in the mood for that. I wanted something real. Something with meaning. I mean, I’m a pimp, but I feel for my girls.

It was right then, cruising down third street that I spotted her. Wearing these boots. She was walking with one other cutie and a couple of dopey looking chumps. I pulled over immediately and pimped myself right up to her. Jefe kept watch.

She was a vision, with her little golfer cap, and these sexy boots. The girl had style. I told her my name, I think. And I told her she was beautiful. The girls love that. Her name was Cassandra — what a beautiful name. I asked for her number too, and without hesitating she gave it to me. I mean, she must have really felt a connection. No surprise there. Beautiful stylish people belong together.

Unfortunately one of the chumps she was with just could not get the hint and he stands right there as the two of us are trying to talk. I think she would have hopped in the car with us right then if it wasn’t for this fool. Instead, we said our goodbyes and I planned to call her later.

I ended dropping Jefe off at the strip club, because I had already found the woman for me. And I was ready to give up my pimpin’ lifestyle for her. I dialed her digits and… it was a wrong number. In her excitement, poor Cassandra must have got it mixed up. Oh, the bitter irony.

It has been over a month now and I don’t know how to find her. I have put my pimp life on hold, and I have tooled all around Louisville and the surrounding area looking for her, but had no luck. I am ready to resign myself back to pimpin and loneliness, which often go together, believe it or not.

Actually, at this point I’m looking for any girl wearing the boots. I’m not above takin’ what I can find. Real.